Ghost & Angel
by Sydella
Summary: They don't hate each other, not really. Frau x Teito, implied Zehel x Mikhail


This does not feel like love. This is a power struggle.

The relationship between Mikhail and Zehel has never been an easy one, no more so than when one has been tasked with protecting a boy and the other inhabits said boy's body. Sometimes Frau wonders if the powers that be (read: Chief of Heaven) just likes messing with him.

Take now, for example. For once, Frau genuinely wants to do some work, and has retreated into a corner of the Church to pore over some documents. Mikhail, however, has other plans, and is blathering about something while Frau tries to tune him out.

"…my likeness really could use a little redesigning, don't you think?" the angel remarked, staring up at a picture of himself in a stained-glass window. "My hair isn't _that _long, and the shade of red used for my eyes is inaccurate."

"Mm-hmm." Not looking up, Frau makes notes in the margins of a lengthy report. "You know, considering that this building was constructed during medieval times, you should just be glad that they didn't accidentally depict you as a gargoyle. Lack of sunlight doesn't make for great art, and humans hadn't invented artificial lighting yet."

"I disagree!" Mikhail restlessly begins dancing around Frau. "Beautiful things deserve utmost dedication. Even the lowest-ranked members of Heaven can produce masterpieces. Nothing like this sloppily made window."

Frau barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. "Well, sucks to be you, doesn't it?"

"On the contrary, Zehel, I am clearly having much more fun than you are." Mikhail stops dancing and peers over Frau's shoulder. "That looks so boring. Why don't you get someone else to do it for you?"

"Not all of us have an army of younger angels at our beck and call," Frau retorts. "Nor the ability to speed-read ancient languages, for that matter."

Mikhail smirks. "Exactly what I was saying. Sucks to be _you_, doesn't it?"

Frau growls and tries to swat him. Mikhail just laughs and nimbly jumps out of the way. He sits on a stuffed armchair and makes himself comfortable. "In all seriousness, though," the angel muses, his tone suddenly sombre, "I've been meaning to check up on you. How have you been, Zehel?"

Frau blinks. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." Mikhail taps the side of Teito's head. "My master cares about your well-being, so I have to care about you too…as far as I can be concerned about someone like you, anyway."

"Well, let's see." Frau stretches out his long legs and rubs his back; a man of his height and girth sitting for hours in a Church alcove is no joke. "I got up at noon and had brunch, then I visited the orphanage-" Mikhail interrupts him.

"Don't just ramble about your boring human life, Zehel." The angel's expression abruptly changes and becomes fierce. "Tell me how you are as a _Ghost_."

Frau is startled. No one has asked him that for a while. Even the other Ghosts tiptoe around the subject, knowing full well that their own feelings are secondary to doing the Chief's work. "My spirit is…all right, I suppose," he answers. "I mean, it could be worse." Unconsciously, he rubs the spot on his right arm where Verloren's scythe usually emerges. Mikhail gazes at it for a moment, then sighs and turns away.

"If anything happens to my master because of that thing, I'll…" Mikhail trails off.

Tentatively, Frau puts a hand on Mikhail's-or rather, Teito's-shoulder. "I know, Mikhail. I know." Mikhail looks at Frau's hand uncertainly, but doesn't object to the Ghost's touch. In silence, they look at each other, both wondering what the other is thinking.

"I swear," Frau says eventually, "I've been doing this for a thousand years and it never gets any easier."

"You're telling me?" Mikhail unseeingly watches a bishop amble across the Church grounds. "I have known so many generations of reapers. Their joy was my joy and their suffering was my suffering. How many Fests and Profes did I share tea with, in this very same Church? How many Relikts and Vertrags told me stories to soothe my troubled heart? How many Eas and Landkartes have I played with over the centuries?" Mikhail smiles-a small, humourless twist of Teito's delicate mouth. "And how many Zehels reincarnated again and again, my lovers and friends and rivals who all left this world before I had a chance to get to know them better?"

Frau studies the angel's profile. Mikhail stands ramrod straight, not looking at him. Now that Frau thinks about it, Mikhail has been though a lot. Imagine having once been a proud occupant of Heaven, dwelling in the land of eternity as a god rightly should. Then, without warning, having your wings taken from you and falling to Earth. To add insult to injury, all human companionship you have ever received is fleeting and never lasts long enough for an immortal's satisfaction, a mere momentary pause in the world's relentless rhythm. Perhaps Mikhail's ferocity and moodiness are just a façade after all. Impulsively, Frau reaches out and ensnares the angel in a bear hug. Mikhail squirms and feebly kicks him, but soon gives in and lets Frau embrace him.

"We will beat Verloren, Mikhail," Frau says presently. "That guy thinks he can do whatever he wants and destroy the entirety of God's creations, but we will stop him. Right?"

"Right." Mikhail absently plays with a swath of fabric on Frau's sleeve. Neither says anything for a while. Razette briefly emerges from the fountain, waves at them, and returns to the watery depths with a loud splash. This time, Mikhail is first to break the silence.

"I know you desire my master, Zehel," the angel states quietly and matter-of-factly, without preamble. "I'm aware of your feelings for him. Me. _Us_."

Frau tightens his muscular arms around Teito's thin body. Mikhail squirms again but Frau doesn't let go. _Never_, the Ghost thinks. _I will never let go_. "And what do you intend to do about that?"

"I don't know." The folds of Frau's trench coat flap in the breeze and Mikhail pensively observes the thin black fabric's motion. "All I ask is that you never hurt my master."

"I will never hurt Teito," Frau declares firmly, and pulls back so he can look Mikhail squarely in the eye. The angel looks steadily back at him, red eyes ancient and unyielding. "I promise."

Mikhail nods. "I will hold you to that promise, Zehel." The Eye embedded in Teito's right hand slowly closes and Teito's eye colour reverts to their usual green.

"What happened?" the boy asks, looking around in confusion. "The last thing I remember is talking to Hakuren and then Mikhail somehow took over."

Frau pats him on the head. "I was just having a chat with Mikhail. Don't worry."

Teito frowns. "There's something you're not telling me."

Instead of responding, Frau hugs him again. Unlike Mikhail, Teito puts up no resistance whatsoever. Frau looks up at the portrait of Mikhail in the stained-glass window. The warm amber glow of sunset illuminates the stern face of the angel's true form and wreathes his flowing white robes in a halo.

It might be a trick of the light, but for a heartbeat, Frau is almost certain that one of the image's faded red eyes, the same ones the true Mikhail had been complaining about earlier, close in a wink at him.


End file.
